Living with His Life in his Hands
by thatcrazygingernerdgirl
Summary: Feliciano's life has just been put in the firing line of an esteemed assassin, by the man supposed to be his best friend. Ludwig's trying to make it run smoothly; Lovino wants another member and Yao just wants more customers. Can Ludwig keep Feli out of trouble and make sure the plan follows through? Or will Kiku get his catch of the day?
1. The Silken Killer

**Hello! This a fan fic that has been running around in my brain for ages, so I finally started to write it. Also, it's more of a Hetalia fanfic set in the 1920s, in which the Martillos are metioned and Isaac and Miria pop up in one scene. ^^ Also, sorry for any historical inaccuracies, I tried my best with research...**

**Anyway, I do not own either Baccano or Hetalia, they are owned by Hidekaz Himaruya and Ryohgo Narita :D**

**(Also, non sexual Asakiku in later chapters.)**

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Kiku Honda sat at his desk, twirling the cigar between his thumb and forefinger. He put it between his teeth and went to reach for a lighter, narrowing his pointed eyes. He licked his lips and then balanced the cigar on his moist mouth, the dry paper sticking to his lips. Kiku's hands scrabbled over the littered desk; over dried up ink pens, sheets of rumpled paper covered with sums and small notes, scrawled in small neat handwriting; a lamp with a marbled, green frosted glass lampshade gave out a dull green tinted light from the far left corner. A clear decanter of a deep, rich amber coloured liquid glinted from another corner, two glasses placed beside it, waiting for the whiskey to be poured into them. His hand groped around for a few more seconds, before his fingers closed around the silver lighter he had been searching for. It was hidden under more sheaves of paper, scattered hastily about with dark ink splodges staining them. Kiku flicked his lighter once, irritated as no flame appeared. He tried again, and a flash of orange fire flickered. He hastily held it under the cigar in his mouth, but dropped both it and the lighter as a knock echoed from the other side of the wood panelled door.

"Come in," he muttered and stuffed the two smoking instruments into one of the draws in the desk. A man, a little younger than Kiku, with messy blonde hair, large green eyes and a default expression of fear and exhaustion, entered nervously.

"There's a man to see you, Mr Honda, sir," he mumbled, wringing his hands. Kiku nodded.

"Send him in, Kirkland," he said in his soft voice, a voice so soft but hid so much of his hard personality. Kirkland nodded and then left for a moment. Kiku exhaled sadly; he had only disposed of the cigar because he knew Kirkland did not agree with smoking, as he had a weak chest. But _why_ was he so nervous around his master? There was that one time, whispered his conscience, when you-

"H-Here he is, sir," said Kirkland, not able to meet Kiku's eyes. Kiku felt a stab of pain from that, but shrugged it off immediately. Why couldn't Kirkland just see?

"Uh, thank you, Kirkland," he said softly again and the butler quickly left, leaving the guest to stand alone by the wooden door. The guest was tall, athletic and blonde, with a piercing blue gaze and was dressed in a long, grey coat. He seemed unsure of what to do. Kiku guessed he was an athlete, coming to ask him to bump off the favourite runner or sabotage the opposing team's relay. "Sit down," instructed Kiku dryly. After living in New York from the age of five, over twenty years, his Japanese accent had been washed away, and replaced with that twang of a true New Yorker. The only thing that gave away his true tongue was his easily unnoticeable difficulty with the letter 'l', and only _that_ was noticed when he spoke quickly, when annoyed or stressed. The blonde haired man sat down heavily on the plush leather chair, opposite Kiku's desk, his face still steel mask it had been ever since he had entered. The Japanese man stood up slowly and walked towards the man, extending his arm in a bored manner. "I am, though I do not doubt, Kiku Honda. The assassin." The man took his hand and shook it with an iron grip. He squeezed Kiku's hand much harder than he had expected, and the assassin released quickly. He leant on the desk and gestured to the man.

"And you?"

"Ludwig Beilschmidt," he said in monotone. "I work in, er… one of the grocers." He continued, hesitating as if slightly unsure. His voice was accented with German; it was a deep throaty voice, far from Kiku's dangerously soft one. Kiku smiled a large, fake, unnerving Cheshire cat grin.

"Which grocer?" he asked, still grinning. Ludwig's eyes flicked to the ceiling for a moment, before returning his gaze to the dark haired man opposite.

"Heracles'," he said firmly and reached up to scratch his nose.

"Really, Kraut?" the assassin was still grinning. Ludwig had to stop himself from squirming uncomfortably in the chair. He felt his cheeks flush.

"I'd prefer if you didn't use slurs, Mr Honda," He said coldly. "And, ja- I mean, _yes_, I am quite sure of my place of work." Ludwig swallowed and cracked his knuckles. Kiku pushed himself forward off the desk, to a standing position and sat back in his chair. He reached for the previously discarded cigar and placed it back into his mouth. He then took the box where they were from and offered it to Ludwig.

"A smoke, Herr Beilschmidt?" he asked, the 'Herr' sounding sarcastic and without meaning. He gave another grin, the smouldering cigar wobbling in the corner of his mouth. Gott, how he wanted to throttle the damn bastard, was the only thing pounding through Ludwig's mind, but he remained cool. Knowing Kiku expected him to decline, he nodded and took the fattest one from the box.

"Please," the German said, and gave the man opposite a deadly smirk. Kiku gave him an even colder smirk in return.

"Of course," he said frostily and reached over, lighting the fat cigar. "They're Cuban, I hope you enjoy it."

"I do not doubt that," Ludwig said in return. The two men sat in silence for a moment, drawing deep breaths of the sweet tobacco.

"Anyway, the tension is nice and all," said Kiku, interrupting the quiet. "But I believe you came for a reason, yes?" he leant forward, his elbows on the desk and his fingertips touching each other. "You would like someone to be… _taken care of_, let's say…" he smiled again. Ludwig took the cigar from his mouth.

"Yes," he answered and tapped the ash from the cigar into an ashtray Kiku had pushed towards him.

"Who do you have in mind?" he asked softly. His voice, it made it sound like such an innocent thing to say.

"Feliciano Vargas," said Ludwig quietly, and he cracked his knuckles again nervously.

"Ah…" Kiku leant back on his chair and took another draw from his cigar. "Younger brother to Lovino Vargas… his brother is the head of the Vargas family, isn't he?" Ludwig nodded.

"I believe so."

"Hmm… it's going to expensive," said Kiku thoughtfully. "He may not be a major member of the mafia, but I believe his brother will send bastards after me if I'm caught…" he whistled between his teeth and sat right again, tapping the end of the smoking cigar.

"How much exactly?" queried Ludwig. "Money is of no object," he added quickly. Kiku licked his lips and then leant back on the desk.

"Hmm, to make a rough guess… at least twenty thousand bucks," Kiku said wearily. "I can knock some off if you can promise me a cover if I happen to screw up. You don't look like a Family member, Herr Beilschmidt; I don't believe you are associated at all?"

"No," Ludwig responded. "I'm not afflicted." Kiku nodded slowly and gave another cold smirk.

"That's going to cost more," he said lightly. "I usually don't work with guys who aren't from one Family or another, because usually they can't produce sufficient cover… however… I think I'll make an exception for you. There's something about you, Herr Beilschmidt, which I hate. But, I also want to help you…" he rubbed his temples, feeling a migraine coming on. "I just need a date and a place." Ludwig took a deep breath.

"Friday," he said slowly. "At quarter to midnight. By the Circle Bar. I'll make sure he's there, I give my word. The alleyway around the back." Kiku nodded once and scribbled a note on a piece of paper, before folding it and placing it into his breast pocket.

"And finally," Kiku said in a low voice. "When will you bring the money?" Ludwig cleared his throat.

"Tomorrow," he said confidentially. "I'll make sure of it."

"And, don't worry Herr Beilschmidt," said Kiku icily, snuffing the cigar into the ashtray with a heavy thud. "I _never _miss_._"


	2. The Dragon in the Den

**Extremely long chapter ahead! (And I still don't own them, what a shame...)**

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Ludwig had not enjoyed their brief meeting at all; he did not like _Mr Honda_ at all. It was how he spoke and acted, he was hiding an ugly side behind his soft voice and sleek appearance. As soon as he was out of the tobacco stinking place, he clapped a handkerchief over his mouth to stop the sob from forcing its way out of his mouth. _Selfish, selfish, selfish… _he was so damn selfish! He had just put his best friend in the firing line, for his own needs. Feli, with his gentle ways and big smile, Feli and his love of pasta and patience with small children, _Feli and his-_

"Stop it," Ludwig mumbled to himself. "So, he never misses. But, he will, this time he will miss and Feliciano will be fine. Now stop it." He took a deep breath, wiped the cold sweat from his brow. The feeling of self hatred still burned away in his heart, and he turned up the collar of his coat and tugged his fedora further over his head. He stuffed his shaking hands deep into the pockets of the overcoat and began to tread through the grim streets of the underworld part of New York City, where all the streets were lined with drug dealers and seedy bars, assassins and prostitutes, looking to give a lustful businessman a 'good time'. He ignored the insults and cigarette butts thrown at him as he trudged along the alleys.

"Kraut! Kraut, get outta here!" they shouted and Ludwig sighed, biting his lip to stop his own ramble of hateful remarks spilling out. It was worth all this trouble, he truly believed, to get the prize at the end of the dark tunnel. He ran his master plan back through his mind as he walked back to his apartment. If he used Feliciano Vargas as bait, he could tempt Kiku from his dark corner and get him arrested, and then also get the famous Lovino Vargas at the same time. He would pretend to be a lowlife, and lead them into thinking he was safe, and wouldn't blab, and when he had them both out in the light, he'd whip off his disguise, flash the police badge, and then have them both shipped into a prison. He would (hopefully), push Feli out of the way of the bullet Kiku would shoot from safe distance, then shoot the assassin down himself, only injure him of course, and have him arrested. Vargas goons were always lurking around The Circle, and in it's seedy, secret opium den, and would send for Lovino straight away if they knew the precious younger brother had got into some crap, and then Ludwig could wait and get him too. Two birds with one stone, as it were. But Feliciano would have to remain clueless, that was definite. It seemed foolproof, to him anyway. Perhaps the shining light from a promotion from the Boss, at the end of it all was affecting his mind and sense of sensibility, but this had never crossed Ludwig's mind, as far as he was concerned it was as easy as ABC. The small glint of guilt, that really, a cop should _not _be best friends with the brother of an esteemed mafia leader, but Ludwig brushed it away quickly. They had been friends when they were younger, ever since Feli had seen Ludwig moping, as he did a lot in his younger days, and had shyly thrown a rubber ball at him, asking "Play?" Before either of them knew it, they were close, such close friends. Too close for comfort. The realisation of the reason that Feliciano Vargas Senior spent a hell of a lot of time away, and wore smart suits and sometimes would stumble back to his house bleeding and cursing, had never occurred to them when they were young. And then the 'Incident' happened, and all that changed. Ludwig decided he would become a police officer and fight against the types that had done it, regardless of the connection between them and Feli. Ludwig slipped the key into the door and it opened. A familiar, albino head was sat drinking a cup of coffee and flicking through a paper.

"Tag, mein Bruder," he said casually and looked up. He scratched his head sleepily. "Did you do it?" Ludwig hung up his hat and coat and joined his brother at the table. He was shaking again and nodded nervously and swallowed.

"J-ja…" he said, swallowing again.

"Ludwig, are you alright?" his brother reached out an arm to comfort him. Ludwig shook his head and gripped his hair with his hands.

"Gott, Gilbert, I'm so selfish, I've just possibly killed my best friend." He gabbled. Gilbert patted his clenched fist gently.

"It's alright, it's for work, ja? Ludwig, we both knew this job would give us dilemmas, but, we chose it and we can't let our lives get in the way."

"But he said he never misses, Gil…" Ludwig said shakily. Gilbert had another sip of coffee.

"Well, he will miss this time. You've already gone over the plan with me a million times. You're gunna make sure he misses, aren't you? And, anyway, even if Feliciano _is _killed in the process, it's gunna hurt like hell for Lovino isn't he? I mean, yeah sure, it's a blow for you, but just think of what be caused by it!"

"Ja," moaned Ludwig sarcastically. "The entire Vargas family and their associates against me and my best friend dead because of something_ I _did. That sounds wunderbar." he said bitterly. Gilbert sighed and drained the coffee cup. He folded the paper and then placed his hands on it. He leaned towards his brother, pulling a face.

"You need to unwind," he said, decision in his voice. "C'mon. Let's go." he chided and went to the coat rack. He threw the hat and coat at his brother and then pulled on his own blue overcoat. Gilbert twirled his car keys around his finger, waiting, and then they left, locking the door securely and went down to the Beilschmidt's car.

The car pulled up by a dark looking bar. A faded sign with a bright red circle on it hung from above the door. It creaked as the wind tickled it, but that creak was masked by the loud sound of laughter and conversation coming from inside. A red glow radiated from the glass windows, along with a mixture of the smell of alcohol and the sweet, hazy stench of opium. The brothers got out of the car, and Ludwig frowned.

"I though you said we were going to the Cirlce, Gilbert?" he asked, confused. Gilbert smiled smugly.

"This _is _the Circle," he said, pointing to the faded sign. "Just not the part_ you_ know." Ludwig was still confused.

"Gilbert, what are you on about?" he pressed, coming to lean on the bonnet of the car next to his brother.

"This is the side of the Circle that people like you, have no idea about," he said slowly. "You noticed how many labyrinth like roads we had to squeeze down to get here, right? Where you go with Feliciano is the normal part; a respectable, beige painted bar with good drinks but crappy entertainment. _Here_, is where the real fun is. It's an opium den, moron. Hot girls and all the drugs you can take, for just twenty bucks, all night!" Gilbert said excitedly. Ludwig frowned, disapproving.

"Gilbert, I believe we're supposed to be the cops here. We supposed to be shutting down holes like this," he gestured a thumb to the seedy looking den. "And we're certainly not supposed to be customers in them-"

"See!" said Gilbert, rubbing at the frown lines on Ludwig's forehead. "That's why I brought you here; too much work and not enough play! Just try it, please, one night?" he pleaded and Ludwig sighed the sigh that meant he had been defeated. Gilbert grinned and gestured for him to follow. The walked into the bar, and straight away, the wave of heat flooded over Ludwig. His wiped his brow on the back of his hand, and followed Gilbert as he walked towards the small Asian girl, with a pretty face a long, dark hair, who was stood by a sliding door. She had a clipboard and a red silk purse slung around her waist. She smiled, and Ludwig had to smile back, she was just stunning.

"Ah, Mister Beilschmidt," she said sweetly. "You're back again, and you brought a friend?" she looked at Ludwig, still smiling. Gilbert put an arm around Ludwig's shoulders, grinning. Ludwig could tell he was trying to use his 'charm' on the girl and resisted the urge to raise his eyebrows in embarrassment.

"Yeah, this is my brother, Ludwig," he said, still grinning. Gilbert leant forward and whispered to her. "His first time," he said nodding at Ludwig, who was resisting the urge to run straight back out the door. The girl smiled a knowing smile to Gilbert, and then Ludwig. Her teeth were perfectly white.

"You're in good hands, Mister Ludwig," she said. "I'm sure you'll have a fantastic time here. Now, you're both here for the night, yes?" the brothers both nodded. "Well, that's forty dollars, sir. And, are you requesting _entertainment_ tonight?" she smiled again and her eyes flicked to the two other girls coming over to the brothers. They were both dressed in the same red cheongsam, with flirty smirks. Gilbert blushed and winked at them both, and the two girls giggled. Ludwig had to dig his nails into his palm to stop himself from hiding his eyes from his older brother's antics. Still, they were all probably paid a lot to put up with guys like him; guys who thought they were sex gods, when they_ really_ were not.

"Not just yet," said Gilbert, winking again. The first girl smiled and nodded to the others.

"You know who to come to if you do," she said, looking at them both through thick, dark lashes. "Fen, Jia Li, take Misters Beilschmidt to a seat," they both came closer to them. Ludwig felt Fen slide a hand teasingly over his buttocks, as she said "Follow me," and he felt the colour rise in his cheeks, but he was smiling dazedly. He rather _liked _it. As they followed the two slim girls through the many blissed out men, some with other pretty Chinese girls, all dressed the same, in their laps or cuddled close to their chests. Jia Li pointed to a group of plush cushions, and next to them, two hookahs. "Is here alright?" she asked. Gilbert nodded, still using his so called 'charm'.

"Yeah, thanks," he said huskily. "Now, if you two get bored this evening, you're very welcome to come and… entertain, here." He said, licking his lips. The two waitresses both giggled again.

"Oh, we'll keep that in mind," laughed Fen, winking at Ludwig this time, before they both turned and walked back to the entrance, their small hips swaying. Gilbert whistled quietly. Ludwig picked up the pipe and put the mouthpiece to his lips, taking a deep draw. The room reeked of the drug, but it was a pleasant reek, and it was so smoky they could hardly see the end of the long room. They both sat and smoked for a few hours, and talking in slow relaxed tones. Ludwig was regretting it, but he was also enjoying it, though he wouldn't admit this yet.

"Hey, Gilbert," he whispered, about to put the mouthpiece to his lips again. "They don't know we're cops, right?" Gilbert shook his head dreamily.

"Nah, don't fret. I'm not an idiot," he said, running his finger along pipe.

"Well, bruder, that's debatable-"

"Oh be quiet!" Gilbert snapped and flicked his brother's ear indignantly. A door opened somewhere on the far corner, and through the smoke, they saw a figure, wearing a changshan made of the same deep red material as the waitress' cheongsams. He had a long sleek ponytail of dark brown hair, and as soon as he entered, the men strewn around had rushed and gathered around him.

"Mister Wang! Mister Wang!" they seemed to be shouting. Ludwig frowned blearily at Gilbert.

"Who's Mister Wang?" he asked, cocking his head at the man. Gilbert put the pipe down and wiped his mouth.

"That's Yao Wang, he owns the place," he said matter-of-factly. "He's one of the biggest names in Chinatown, you haven't heard of him?" Ludwig shook his head.

"Nein, only, are you forgetting we're supposed to be arresting types like him?" Ludwig said icily, giving Gilbert a cold look. Gilbert shifted.

"Pfft, stop being a spoil-sport, Ludwig." He said. "I thought you were enjoying yourself?"

"Mmm," Ludwig murmured. "But still-"

"No buts!" Gilbert went to put his finger over his lips but ended up nearly sticking it up his nose instead as he drunkenly swayed about. Ludwig sighed again and blinked wearily. The group of men were starting to disperse again, but the red, pony-tailed figure was starting to approach them.

"Gilbert," Ludwig dug his brother in the ribs. "Here's coming over!" Gilbert rubbed his nose and stood up, pulling Ludwig up with him. They both stood awkwardly as Yao came ever closer, until eventually he was stood right infront of them.

"Nin hao," said Yao, bowing to them both. "You're the Beilschmidts, aren't you?"

"Yeah," said Gilbert and nodded to him. "Ludwig's new today." Yao nodded and crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes.

"Ye-ess…" he said distantly. Ludwig offered a polite smile, though inside he was shouting 'Goddamit goddamit, we're the cops here, we're supposed to be arresting you!' In reality, his face was kept a straight mask. It seemed that that rule had been forgotten anyway, as they were both associated with types in the Underworld anyway. "Hmm… Ludwig… you're Feliciano Vargas' friend aren't you?" there was a boo from the members of the other families, such as the Martillos and the Carriedos, but all of them were too high to do anything.

"Shut up!" Yao spun around and bellowed at them. "Let the guy speak!" Ludwig cleared his throat as he felt the eyes of nearly every man and woman in the den staring at him intently.

"Uh… ja-yes," he said. Yao nodded again and rested a finger against his lips thoughtfully. His eyes were cold and interrogating, and Ludwig swallowed, before staring back hotly. What right had this….this… The word 'chink' came to mind but Ludwig minutely shook his head at his own thought. He had been a victim of slurs for many years now, and he knew how hard it was; and after all, Mister Wang was only curious. Or so he hoped.

"Well," Yao's arms dropped to his sides and then his composure broke and a large smile appeared. "A friend of Feli is a friend of mine! We go back a long way…" he said distantly.

"Oh?" Ludwig and Yao nodded and tucked a strand of his dark hair behind his ear.

"Yes, he and his brother Lovino are two of my best customers," he said proudly. "And I've spent a good time on the side of the Vargas'-"

"Hey!" one of the goons, which Ludwig guessed was from the Martillos, had stood up, a knife clutched in his slack hand. Yao sighed tiredly; three days; three days without some sort of rowdiness. "Y-You… you're a Vargas a-a-a-associate?" he said thickly and swayed on the spot. All of them seemed to carry something for self defence, a knife or a gun, but Yao was getting sick of them. With a grunt, the man threw the knife, aiming straight for his head, and Yao yawned, and ducked gracefully. The knife embedded itself into the thick wooden doors with a thunk. Yao pulled it out, spun it around in his fingers, and tossed it to one of the waitresses, who swooned as she caught it by the crude handle. Yao clicked his fingers.

"Mei! Hey, Mei, get the guys to uh… dispose of this… patron…" He shouted, and the first girl who had been stood by the entrance poked her head out of the slats of the sliding door. Yao pointed to the man who had thrown the knife, who was now realising the consequences and was trying to make a run for it. Mei nodded and disappeared for a second, and then followed by two beefy looking men. Yao placed a hand on the Beilschmidts' shoulders and steered them away, back onto their cushions.

"And, for the record, that was a long time ago, sir!" he shouted to the man, who was no being cornered by the nasty looking bouncers, petite Mei stood a few paces behind them, a cruel smile on her lips. He indignantly sat down on a seat, his legs neatly folded beneath him.

"So, you were once with the Vargas family?" asked Ludwig, interested. Yao nodded and reclined into the lap of the waitress behind him, who was plaiting his hair lovingly.

"Yes…" he said, smiling for second as the girl planted a kiss on his forehead. "I am nifty with my fists in dire situations. They employed me as a lookout, and I could injure substantially if I needed it. Then, one night…" he trailed off again. His mind was full of visions of a young man; still nearly a boy, with a long sword… the look of pain but also ferocious anger on his face as he swung; the burning ache as it slashed into the skin of Yao's back, how he had fallen forward, his vision slowly dimming, as he looked into the eyes of the crying boy infront of him; he had croaked, desperately, and called his name, but the boy had fled into the warehouse of which the Vargas' were heisting, and finally, how Yao had curled up into a ball, prepared to die, to wake up the next morning with an ugly, huge scar on his back and the news that all seven members employed that night had been brutally assassinated.

"Uh, Mister Wang?" Ludwig cleared his throat nervously.

"Hmm? Oh yes sorry…" Yao sat up again from the waitress, who pouted, and eyed the whole that had been left in the wall from the knife. "I hate blades…" he muttered, his hands closing into fists in his lap. Gilbert and Ludwig exchanged confused looks and Yao smiled again, this time a little sadly. "Well, sorry I got a bit wrapped up in the past there. Don't think about the past too much, it's bad for the soul! Anyway, I was a lookout until I was involved in an accident, and I decided to leave and run my father's opium den instead!" he said this with clearly forced cheerfulness, and Ludwig noticed as he threw his right arm into the air as a gesture to the den, his left went and felt up and down his back. Yao winced internally as his fingers brushed over the tender, puckered skin there but then left his hand drop again. He stood up elegantly, offered his hand to the pouting waitress. "Anyway, I hope you enjoy your evening, Misters Beilschmidt," he said heartily, before bowing again. "I hope I'll see you in here soon. Goodbye," The Chinese man turned on his heel and slunk back through the smoky room, more girls surrounding him like exotic red butterflies.


	3. The Capo and the Oni

**AN: Sorry I didn't write this sooner it's terrible but what the hell :I**

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Feliciano Vargas walked along the street, his hands shoved deep into his pockets and his head bowed, eyes trained on his feet. People tutted as he passed, and sent disapproving looks. They pulled their children close to them, and the children whimpered. Feliciano sighed, his heart almost hurting in his chest: he didn't want to be feared, and he wasn't the threat, except, having a brother who was one of the big shots in the Mafia gave him an unwanted reputation. He could never hurt a fly, _never_, even if his life depended on it. He just wanted to be accepted. Lost deep in his thought, he did not notice the two children that strayed into his path. As he crashed into them, he gasped a little and they both shrieked. The girl leapt behind the boy, starting to sob, and the boy stood trembling, his eyes wide and fearful. Feli put his hands out in a surrender.

"Hey! Hey, it's okay!" he said gently. "You're fine!" the children's breathing slowed down a little. The girl peered over the shoulder of the boy, blinking.

"I'm so sorry, Mister Vargas, s-sir…" she mumbled. Feliciano bent down to her level.

"Why are you so scared of me?" he asked, genuine hurt starting to burn in his heart. "I'm as intimidating as a cat with a melon for head!" he used his terrible sense of humour as a comfort for them, and smiled, relieved, as they both gave him a nervous titter. "See?"

"But… you're brother… he's so scary!" the boy said. Feliciano nodded.

"Si, I agree," that felt a bit unfair on Lovino, as Feli remembered, that his brother had always been kind towards him. He would happily shoot down any man, if it did anything for Feliciano. He offered them a smile. "But, you two don't need to worry a out my fratello, he's not going to bother you, I promise." _Yeah, I'll make sure_, he said mentally. If Lovino lay a finger on them, then God help them. He felt a dark presence materialise behind him and the children both scampered off, bleating forlorn farewell.

"Bruno," Feli said a little sharply. "What can I do for you?" he turned around to face him, his face plastered with a fake smile. Bruno was one of Lovino's henchmen. He was tall, beefy and dark and though cold he was one of the nicer employees of his brother.

"Signor Vargas," said Bruno gruffly. "Your brother wishes to see you." Feli inwardly sighed.

"Alright," he said wearily and started to follow Bruno, his heart heavy.

Feliciano knocked three times on the heavy door, frowning.

"Entra." came an irritated voice from the other side of the door. Feli opened the door slowly, sweating nervously. "Ah, fratello!" Lovino stood up from his chair and pointed to the chair opposite. "So Bruno found you. Good. A drink?"

"Um, no thank you, Lovino," said Feli uncomfortably, sinking into the chair. "What did you want me for? Because I was wanting to speak with you too-"

"Feliciano, I want you to join us." Lovino put both palms onto his desk. Feli groaned, leaning back in the chair. He rubbed a hand over his face.

"Lovino please, my answer is always going to remain the same," he murmured. "You know I don't agree with it."

"But I am sick and tired of people using you against me," Lovino voice became cold. "How many times have I had to send my men out to come and rescue your sorry ass?" Feli remained silent, his tongue pushing hard against his cheek. He grit his teeth. "If you joined, then maybe people would start to fear you, and stop thinking of you as a soppy little damsel they can kidnap to get to me!" Lovino stood up, slamming his hands against the desk. Feliciano jumped up from the chair, leaning over until he was face to face with his brother.

"Oh, so you think I _enjoy_ being drugged and stuffed into boxes and having my wrists bound to my ankles countless times?" he fired back. He yanked the sleeve of his shirt back, revealing the scars of hundreds of crude rope handcuffs and thrust it infront of Lovino's red face. "Nobody ever goes for you because they think you're strong, but you're not are you? Not really, it's just a masquerade, and everybody forgets that I can do this too!" he swung his fist, shrieking with anger and connected with Lovino's eye. "I'm not weak or wimpy, and _I'm _sick of being a nobody but 'Capo's wimpy kid brother.'!" Panting, his fist fell to his side. Lovino's eyes blazed.

"You _little bastard_…" he muttered. Without thinking, he threw a punch at his nose and smashed into the middle of Feli's face, his nose crunching sickeningly. Hot tears of anger, not pain speared Feliciano's eyes as they stood, staring and panting at each other, the hot blood pouring down his face onto his shirt.

"Fratello I-" Lovino began but Feliciano shook his head, holding out a hand to stop him.

"Just save it," He snapped. "Save it." he turned on his heel, the blood still flowing and walked out of the room. Lovino sunk back into his chair, a mixture of anger and regret swirling around inside. He ran a hand through his dark oily hair.

"Jesus…" he muttered. "Oh Jesus Christ…"

Ludwig frowned as he stood outside Kiku's business, hands brushing over the notes in his pocket. His over had hovered in a fist over the door, ready to knock and he was startled as the door opened quietly.

"Mr- I mean, _Herr_ Beilschmidt," mumbled Kirkland. "Please, come in." Ludwig nodded at him awkwardly, walking into the dark abode. "May I take your coat?" Ludwig slipped the overcoat off handing it to butler, not before taking the stack of notes from the right hand pocket. Kirkland hung it up, before gesturing for him to follow him the door leading the assassin's study. He knocked once.

"Come in," came Kiku quietly from the other side of the door and Ludwig gave Kirkland an awkward smile before entering. "Sit down," said Kiku, getting up from the chair. "Did you bring it?"

"Yes," he produced the notes. Kiku snatched it off him, flicking through them, his small tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. "All twenty thousands dollars." Kiku nodded, smiling.

"Wonderful. Thank you, Herr Beilschmidt." He said, elegant fingers gliding over the notes. Ludwig nodded uncomfortably, before standing up.

"I have business to attend to," he said. "So I will see you…Friday." He said swallowing. Kiku nodded, not looking up from the notes. "Oh, you won't. Don't worry," his voice grew to a whisper. "Now get out of my house, Kraut." Ludwig flushed, getting angry before inhaling deeply.

"As you wish." He said before turning and walking out of the room. He took his coat from the peg, before slipping out, feeling worse than he had the previous day. Still, the idea of gunning down the arrogant bastard kept the positivity in his mind. Kirkland knocked on the door of the study, a tray of tea balanced in his hand before pushing the door open and walking anxiously in. Kiku smiled at him, his heart aching again. How he wanted to push his hands through his soft blonde hair, see those green eyes close with bliss because of him. He watched as Kirkland filled the teacup with the boiling water and then heard him yelp as a little scalding water splashed onto his hand.

"Kirkland, what is it?" he asked concerned. Kirkland's eyes grew large with fear as he rubbed at his burnt hand.

"N-nothing Mister Honda," he said, eyes flicking to tea again. "Let me pour some more for you." He reached for the teapot again and poured more steaming tea into the cup, and Kiku studied his pale hand, eyes narrowing as they scanned over the hot red area where the water had splashed.

"Let me see," he said quietly and Kirkland set the pot down again, wringing his hands. "No sir, it's fine honestly-" he gulped as Kiku reached across and took it gently. He turned it over looking at the burn and suddenly felt the urge to press his lips against it. He did so, resting his mouth against it and gliding over the rest of his hand and up his arm. "M-Mister Honda, sir-" started Kirkland. "Please, what are you doing…" Kiku stopped, bringing the limp hand away from his lips.

"I love you, Kirkland." He said softly, dark eyes staring into the shining green ones opposite. "Say you love me too." Kirkland's chest rose and fell shakily and he shook his head trying to pull his hand away from him.

"Sir, I can't answer that-" Kiku's grip tightened on his hand and he winced blinking. "Please let me go, sir-"

"Say you love me, Kirkland." repeated the Japanese, a growl forming in the back of his throat. "And then I will let you go." Kirkland stifled a whimper.

"Please sir, let me go, I'm sorry-"

"Say it!" he shouted into his face, his expression a mask of aggression. Kirkland shrank back.

"Mr Honda, please! I don't love you I'm sorry!" Kiku growled his hand clenching and the bones of Kirkland's wrist crunching under his palm. Tears ran down Kirkland's cheeks, and as he tried to stop concentrating on the pain of his broken wrist he noticed the man opposite's eyes shining. Kiku blinked, letting go of his hand and sank down into the chair.

"Get out…" he said numbly. Kirkland hesitated and Kiku snapped at him. "Get out, now." He repeated his voice no more than a whisper. Kirkland swallowed and backed out of the room. Kiku rested his head in his hands, silent, as he heard the front door shut after a while. Kirkland must have collected his few possessions together and left for good. He shut his eyes, choking a sob into his palms.

He had just lost the trust of a man his heart was crazy for. And it did not feel good.

* * *

**ASAKIKU *noosebleeds***


End file.
